Countdown
by strawberryfinn
Summary: JONAS. One-shot. COMPLETE. As ridiculous as it sounds, it starts with the gelato. Nick’s life is ruined, and it’s all the gelato’s fault. Warnings: Character Death, Language


**Author's Note**: Well I am back with the JONAS fictions as the show has premiered now. Let's follow the adventures of the _Lucas_ brothers, shall we?

**Summary**: As ridiculous as it sounds, it starts with the gelato. Nick's life is ruined, and it's all the gelato's fault.

**Rating**: Mature

**Warnings**: Language, Character Death

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**Countdown**

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**1.**  
_Gelato._

As ridiculous as it sounds, it starts with the Italian gelato. The fucking gelato. It can't be ice cream or frozen yogurt. It has to be the gelato.

"I want gelato."

Those are the words. Simple and straight.

"Nick, we don't have time right now. We have to practice-" comes the protest of his oldest brother. Kevin tunes his guitar. Nick rolls his eyes.

"I want gelato. Come on, it sounds good."

"It does. Mango—that's what I want," admits Joe, tilting his head. "I guess I can take you. After we practice."

"I want it now."

"When did you become such a PMSing little bitch?" Joe jokes with a smile.

"Ever since gelato entered my mind," Nick states smoothly back. "Come on Joe. Dude, I'll pay."

"Why can't you just wait, Nick?" Kevin asks.

"My blood sugar's low," Nick answers. "I need gelato."

"Eat an apple," Kevin drops his guitar to the side and rummages through a paper bag.

"I don't want an apple," Nick says tensely. "Please Joe, I want gelato."

Joe smirks at Kevin. "If we don't get him his Italian ice we're going to have to go through this all night. I'll just take him. And it's his birthday for God's sakes. He's only difficult when he knows we'll give him what we want."

Kevin's forehead creases. "But we have a show-"

"In like two hours," Joe counters, running his hand through his straight hair. "It won't be long—it will take like what, half an hour?"

Kevin glances at his brothers, raising his hands in defeat. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever."

"Thanks Kevin," Nick smirks. He won. He finds Kevin's car keys and tosses them to Joe. "Drive."

Kevin stares at Nick walking out the door.

"When did…when-"

Joe stares at Kevin's flabbergasted face.

"Puberty hit," he said simply.

There's a terse order outside.

"_Joe_. Gelato."

"Okay, Prima Donna."

**2.**  
_Cranberries._

Next, it's the screeching tires.

There's a scream and the sickening crunch of metal as the cars collide. Their car skids out of control and slams into the side of the freeway. The spinning car comes to a halt.

He's jerked forward in his seat--his seatbelt preventing him from flying out the window.

God, there's actually a reason for these straps.

The airbag next to him blows up.

He tastes blood in his mouth. Forget the lemon gelato stuffed up his nose.

His heart races and he breathes hard, trying to control his shaking body.

"Joe?"

It hurts to turn his head but he does. A body is slumped in the airbag; his brother is motionless.

"Joe."

It's not a question this time. He just needs a response.

Joe doesn't move.

Nick's heart races. Joe's just unconscious. He'll be alright.

But the red that drips down Joe's face isn't reassuring at all.

He closes his eyes and tries to convince himself it's cranberry sauce.

**3.**  
_White._

It's just white. He doesn't know why.

And shit, he's scared.

There's white. Everywhere.

Maybe he's dying.

At least then he won't be crazy.

Someone's calling his name.

"Nick?"

He tries to move his head.

It won't move.

Fuck.

He tries to open his eyes.

They won't open.

Fuck.

He feels a touch on his hand.

He tries to move his hand.

This pattern is getting obnoxious.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What's going on?

White. White. White.

He hopes this isn't the way he's going to think from now on.

"Nick, please wake up." There's sobbing.

He doesn't like the sound.

Well he would wake up but he can't control his body...what the hell is going on?

Where's Kevin? Where's Frankie?

Where's his mom and dad?

But mainly,

_Where's Joe?_

His eyes stay closed and he starts dreaming of candycane trees and cotton candy clouds. Gumdrop mountains too.

Except he can't eat any of it because he's a friggin' diabetic.

He thinks he's in the hospital.

And he thinks the doctor decided to give him a sex change operation.

Because he's dreaming like a candyass.

**4.**  
_Air._

When he opens his eyes he thinks he's dead.

A rush of air pulls through his lungs and GODDAMMIT it hurts.

A lot.

He almost screams.

But it would hurt more to scream.

His mom's eyes are above his face; the worry that creases her forehead rips at his heart.

"Hey," he mutters weakly.

She looks at him and bursts into tears.

He turns his head to the left and sees his brother.

Kevin looks at him, his eyes hollow.

"Where's Joe?" Nick manages to gasp.

Kevin looks at the floor.

Hell no.

It's not that.

It's not that.

Joe can't be...dead?

Kevin shuffles his foot.

"Joe's dead," is the reply.

He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing so he can't think about anything else.

**5.**  
_Never._

He can't believe he missed the funeral. He missed the fucking funeral because he was trying to breathe on his deathbed.

And honestly he wishes that he'd have died instead of Joe.

It was all his fault.

That and the gelato's.

He's never going to eat gelato again.

Fuck how good it tastes.

**6.**  
_Going On_

"Please Nick, we have to do this."

"I don't have to do anything."

"He'd have wanted you to."

"Joe would have wanted to _live_."

"You can't blame this on yourself."

"Who else is there to blame? I didn't see _you_ whining for gelato?"

"Please Nick. This is for Joe."

"JOE IS DEAD!"

"Don't you owe him this?"

"I just owe him his _life_ back!"

"Nick this isn't-"

"If you say it's not my fault one more time I am going to _kill_ you!"

"Nick, come on-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP KEVIN! You weren't there when the blood was pouring off his head. You weren't there and you didn't hear the screech..._you didn't hear_..."

"FUCKING UP YOUR LIFE ISN'T GOING TO HELP!"

"But it helps me feel better."

"Joe wouldn't want you to stop. He would have wanted us to go on."

"Don't talk about going on to me Kevin. He's dead and there's no going on from there."

**7.**  
_Converse._

He stares at his scuffed Converse and in frustration takes one off and throws it across the room. It hits his wall and his face crumples as he buries his face in the blankets.

Damn.

He likes the way the sheets smell--there's still that faint scent of Joe. He sobs and tries to brace his shaking shoulders.

He doesn't want to cry but he can't help it.

He fumbles around Joe's room and punches his hand into the wall so hard it bleeds. As he slams a drawer in Joe's desk pops open.

Maybe it's a sign from God is his sarcastic thought.

His eyes widen as he walks over to the desk. He takes up the crumpled piece of notebook paper and realizes what he has to do.

Stuffing his feet into his shoes, he starts off.

There's going to be a hell of a resurrection tonight.

**8.**  
_Voice._

When he gets onto the stage, the lights are bright and the screams are loud.

He blindly hears Kevin make a speech next to him but all he can focus on is that one crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

When he starts to sing, his voice is raw and unrefined. It rips out of his throat with an unrestrained power that he didn't know he had in him.

The crowd grows quiet, but that might just be him. That might just be his voice alone; he might just be a million miles away from it all by himself.

And as his voice spirals out with a fervor he has never possessed, he feels like he belongs.

**End.**

Reviews are always appreciated. (Repost).


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